A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes, and I don't get paid for this; this is truly a labor of love. When an actual scene from the episode is presented, actual dialogue from the scene is used. Cohen's thoughts, of course, are his own. Updated 2-7-11.
In response to Snooky's comment about hoping to see a reference to "No Names, Please": well, here it is...as Cohen saw it.
Professor Cohen tries to explain his wartime adventures as Major Hochstetter to his offspring...
New York City, 1957
It had been an exhausting week grading papers and sitting in on auditions, and Cohen was recuperating in the best way he knew how...stretched out on the living room sofa with the Sunday paper spread out over his face, peacefully snoozing amid the normal chaos generated by four lively children and a cat.
"Dad..."
"Mmph..."
"Dad!"
"Wha..."
"DAD!"
Cohen sat up abruptly, not sure where he was, what day it was, or even who he was supposed to be. "Jawohl, Herr Oberstleutnant!"
He opened his eyes to see Maggie and Charles looking at each other and shaking their heads.
"Told you so," said eleven-year-old Charles gloomily.
"I don't believe it," said Maggie, ten, her hands on her hips.
"Don't believe what?" asked their long-suffering father, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to wake up.
"The kids at school say we're Krauts, Dad." Charles was indignant.
"Are we? The Krauts are the bad guys!" Maggie was close to tears.
Cohen looked from one to the other and sighed. This talk was a long time coming, and he wasn't sure how to handle it. He looked up to the doorway to see his wife smiling slightly and shaking her head.
Great. I'll have to be the one doing the explaining. Fine. But just for that, Hilda will have to be the one to tackle the talk on the birds and the bees!
"Depends on what you mean by Krauts," he said.
"Germans!" said Charles bitterly.
"Well, here are the facts, kids. I was born in Germany and came to America with my parents when I was seven. Your mother was born in Germany, and came to America after she married me. We were born Germans and became naturalized American citizens. You kids were all born in America and are all American citizens, of German ancestry...just like probably a quarter of all Americans."
Six-year-old Helga had been listening to this, all the while clutching a big black cat in her arms. "Is Manfred German too, Daddy?"
Manfred, although fifteen years old, had only a slightly whitened muzzle to show his age. He looked at Cohen and meowed, whether in German or English, it was difficult to say.
"Since he's lived most of his life in New York City, I guess it's safe to say he's a naturalized American, just like me and your mother."
"But Dad," Maggie persisted, "We've been studying World War Two in school, and the Germans were the bad guys."
"The Nazis were, for sure. Never forget that."
"I won't. But I have to write a report on what my parents did during the war. What did you and Mom do during the war? Were you the good guys, or the bad guys? "
Oh boy. Luckily the whole thing was declassified last year.
"Well, that's kind of complicated to answer. I mean, we were definitely the good guys, but we were living among the bad guys, pretending to be bad guys. At least I was pretending to be a bad guy. Your mom was just being a law-abiding citizen...sort of."
Eight-year-old Robbie spoke up for the first time. "Wow."
'In Germany?" Maggie's eyes were like saucers.
"Yeah." Cohen was silent for a time, lost in memories. Hilda came across the room and sat down beside him. She put her head on his shoulder as he began the story.
"Once upon a time, there was a Papa Bear..."
Gestapo Headquarters, Hammelburg
1944
Cohen looked at the blurred copy of an American newspaper. His superior in Berlin, Oberstleutnant Schuster, had sent it to him by special messenger. The attached note left no room for misunderstanding.
Hochstetter –
Investigate immediately, starting with Stalag 13 in Hammelburg. We must get to the bottom of this report without delay. I have arranged that the bearer of this message, Private Berger, will work undercover as a guard at Stalag 13, to aid in your investigation.
Schuster
A quick glance at the newspaper article showed Cohen that an undoubtedly well-meaning war correspondent had blown the cover of Papa Bear's operation at Stalag 13. True, his article did not disclose the name or location of the stalag where the operation he had witnessed had taken place, but enough detail was given to put Colonel Hogan and all of his men at risk...
The special messenger, one Private Hans Berger, stood at attention while Cohen perused the message. Cohen sighed, then said, "You will report for duty tomorrow at Stalag 13 per Oberstleutnant Schuster's instructions. Tomorrow evening, you will report back to me here at headquarters."
It just never ends at Stalag 13...
...
The next day in Klink's office, Cohen confronted Colonel Hogan, who was seated in front of Klink's desk. Klink was holding the copy of Walter Hobson's article that Cohen had received by special messenger.
"This was published in an American newspaper a few weeks ago," said Cohen.
"And sent to the Gestapo by a German agent in the United States," said Colonel Klink with an odious air of triumph. He leaned toward Cohen confidentially. "Do you think there's any harm his knowing that we have agents in America?"
Harm to the Nazi cause? Of course! But I want him to know, and you did exactly what I thought you would...spilled the beans.
"No, I don't think so...especially since you have just told him!" Cohen said with an edge to his voice.
"That's what I thought," said Klink, nodding wisely.
"Don't worry," said Hogan. "Your secret's safe with me."
Before Cohen could respond, Klink spoke up.
"Now, Hogan, I'm going to read to you."
"Oh, good!" said Hogan, scooting his chair closer.
Looking at the article which he held in his hand, Klink read aloud, "For security reasons, I cannot tell you the exact location...the request was 'No names, please'...but somewhere in Germany an American officer is operating a sabotage and rescue unit from, of all places, a German POW camp."
Hogan looked up at Cohen as if to verify the truth of this.
Yeah, that's right, Hogan. Hobson really screwed this up. Sorry about that, but my boss knows about this, and I have to do damage control.
Klink continued reading. "These men saved my life. To me, they are among the unsung heroes of this war."
Hogan leaned forward and looked at the article. "Walter Hobson. Who's he?"
"An American journalist," said Cohen.
Klink said, "This was sent to Spain, then to Portugal, then forwarded to Switzerland, and finally sent here, to Germany."
"Well, Hogan?" said Cohen.
I'm going to have a helluva time trying to cover this up. And you're going to help me do it.
"Stamps must've cost a fortune!" said Hogan.
Cohen snatched the article from Klink and held it in front of Hogan's face. "Are you this officer?"
Klink laughed. "A spy operating in Stalag 13? That's impossible!"
Hogan laughed too, but he was more unnerved than Cohen had ever seen him before. "Let's keep this war sensible!"
This is serious, all right, and I think Hogan knows it.
"Hogan, any prisoner who carries on sabotage or espionage activities is no longer protected by the Geneva Convention!"
"No kidding!"
"And any prisoner caught in such activities can be shot or...hanged!" Cohen looked Hogan right in the eye.
"Or both," Klink said helpfully.
"Don't get greedy," said Hogan.
Cohen drew himself up to his full height, which was unfortunately still a few inches shy of Klink's. "Klink, the Gestapo will undertake an investigation of all POW camps at once. Beginning right HERE!" He punctuated this by handing Klink back the article forcefully.
And it's a good thing that I'm going to be the one investigating this camp. Who knows what somebody else might find here...
Cohen then turned to leave, pausing at the door to sneer, "There is nothing more to be said to either of you."
"What happened to 'Auf Wiedersehen'?" said Hogan.
"BAH!"
...
That evening, at Gestapo headquarters in Hammelburg, Cohen received a call from Klink regarding an escape planned by the prisoners at Stalag 13.
So that's Hogan's plan? A phony escape attempt, to divert attention from his operation? Might work. The sooner I can cross this camp off Schuster's list, the better.
"Well, Klink, that is good news. You see what is possible when you try?"
"It's all a question of ingenuity, Major. I amaze myself at times."
"Oh, Klink, you have always amazed me." Cohen's voice dripped sarcasm.
"Thank you, Major. Now, if you can be here Wednesday night, I should be honored to include you in the raiding party."
"Oh, that is very kind of you. I will be there. Heil Hitler." He hung up the receiver and turned to Berger, who was standing at attention in his office. "Every year that man lives takes at least a century off the Thousand Year Reich! He wants to arrest Hogan on Wednesday night and he is generous enough to include the Gestapo."
"I will give the necessary orders, Herr Major," said Berger.
"Ja. But I will be at Stalag 13 on Tuesday night."
"Tuesday night?" asked Berger. "May I ask the reason for this?"
"Do I need a better reason than Klink, the Iron Colonel?"
If I know Klink, he will try to grab the glory of stopping the escape attempt for himself, so he will plan the raid a day early. Unfortunately, if I'm going to get Schuster off my back, I need to be there when the supposed escape attempt happens.
And if I know Hogan, he'll plan it a day early just because he figures Klink will do the same. Good grief, I'm starting to think like them. Maybe I need a vacation.
...
Cohen showed up at Stalag 13 on Tuesday and went right to Barracks 2 with Berger. As he opened the door, he realized to his dismay that he could see a couple of dark figures near the bunk entrance of the tunnel.
Damn! Hogan's got some other plan going on tonight as well. No doubt he probably thought he'd kill two birds with one stone with the phony escape attempt. I'd better get out of here.
He quickly backed out before Berger could see, and at the same time, Hogan came around the side of the barracks, calling, "Major Hochstetter! The escape's over here!"
Cohen rolled his eyes, but he and Berger followed Hogan to Barracks 4, an otherwise unoccupied hut that presently contained Colonel Klink, Schultz, Olsen, and Newkirk, who was half in and half out of a tunnel entrance in the floor.
This is the supposed escape attempt? Come on, guys, you're hardly even trying here.
Cohen pulled his Luger. "So! You are all under arrest."
Klink said, "You are a little late, my friend."
"Always a bridesmaid, never a bride," said Hogan.
"Major, this happens to be Tuesday," said Klink.
"Oh, thank you very much," said Cohen.
"I distinctly told you Wednesday, not Tuesday," said Klink.
"Do you think I listen to what you say? You might as well have said Friday, for all that I care."
"I never said anything about Friday!"
"I didn't say you said anything about Friday!" Cohen was really getting into the argument...Klink was just so easy to bait, he couldn't resist annoying him.
"Now tell me, was it Tuesday or Wednesday? Be honest!"
"Honest, with you? You don't even know how to spell the word!"
"Ha! Coming from the Gestapo, that sounds very funny. Now, you may leave at any time, and take your spy, Private Berger, with you."
"What spy? I don't know what you are..."
"HOLD IT!" Hogan shouted. As both of the combatants stopped talking and looked at him, he added, "You make me feel terrible."
"What?" said Cohen.
"Well, it's true that we dug the tunnel and tried to escape...but that's not the worst thing we did," said Hogan.
"What else did you do?" asked Klink apprehensively.
Hogan appeared to be all choked up and indicated both Klink and Cohen. "I broke up a beautiful friendship."
...
Cohen and Berger reported back to Schuster about the successful foiling of an escape attempt, but that there was no underground organization at Stalag 13. They spent the next few weeks on the road investigating various stalags, but the mysterious American officer and his operation were nowhere to be found.
Back in Berlin for his final report to Schuster, Cohen remarked casually to his superior, "One might almost feel sorry for the Allied prisoners. Such an operation, had it existed, would have given them a boost to their morale...perhaps that was Hobson's intent, in writing this rather unlikely story?"
Maybe I've been hanging around Hogan too much...sounds like something he'd say.
Schuster looked at him sharply, and then rubbed his chin as he thought this over. "Ja, you could be right, Major. I am beginning to believe we have wasted far too much time on this matter. Dismissed!"
It was subsequently acknowledged among the German High Command that Walter Hobson's article was, in fact, an extremely clever bit of unsubstantiated propaganda, which had never for a moment been taken seriously.
"And did the bad guys ever find out that Colonel Hogan's operation was for real?" asked Maggie.
"Nope."
Charles looked at his father skeptically. "That's what you did during the war?"
"Pretty much."
"You pretended to be a bad guy, so Colonel Hogan could do his job without the real bad guys finding out," said Maggie.
"That's it in a nutshell, honey," Cohen said. "But Colonel Hogan had plenty of help from his German friends in the underground, too."
"It sounds like you were kind of a dopey bad guy, Dad," said Charles, shaking his head sadly.
"Acting, my boy, acting."
"Did Colonel Hogan know that you weren't really a bad guy?" asked Maggie.
"Eventually, yes."
"Did you ever shoot anybody?" This from Robbie.
"Nope." Cohen paused a moment, as though the answer surprised himself. "No, I never had to do that, thank God."
"Oh," said Robbie, evidently disappointed.
"Time to get washed for dinner, children," Hilda said. She and Cohen watched as the four tumbled out of the room.
"Are you ever going to tell them all of it?" she asked.
"Someday...maybe." He stood and reached down a hand to help her to her feet. As they came to the doorway, they could hear a discussion between their two eldest.
"Shh..." Cohen held Hilda back from entering the hallway, and they listened in, unseen, to the conversation.
"So, what are you going to write in your report?" asked Charles in a patronizing, big-brother tone.
"That Mom was a secretary, and Dad was a policeman who never shot anybody." Maggie's voice was decisive.
"What about all the bad guys?"
"Nobody's going to believe that!"
Hilda's eyes met Cohen's; hers were brimming with laughter. She leaned over and kissed his cheek.
"Always the Unsung Hero," she said.